Earning the Night
by adorable pragmatism
Summary: Batgirl!Artemis AU. A different set of choices and circumstances leads to a different path. Artemis Crock takes up the symbol that shines in the sky outside of her bedroom window and becomes another kind of hero.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I've been writing various drabbles for this Batgirl!Artemis AU on my tumblr, and now that I have an actual first-chapter-like-thing I guess I'll post it here?

Might change the title later because I suck at titles.

* * *

She's wearing the Bat symbol on her chest.

She's blonde, not much older than Dick, and she lifts her chin up and faces Batman like she has just as much right to wear her hand-stitched cowl as he has to wear his armored one embedded with the latest technology.

Robin is perched up on the railing of the fire escape, watching.

This is definitely something worth watching.

Batman slowly treads over the dirty snow and ice of the alleyway, advancing on that poor girl, about to give her the fright of her life. Then he stops and just _looms_, his cape swirling and snapping in the wind like a cloud of foul black smoke. He's in full nightmare mode.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Bruce is using his lowest, coldest, harshest Batman voice, and even Robin gets a chill from it.

The girl—Batgirl?—doesn't back down or falter. She looks pointedly at the tied-up muggers propped against the trash bin. "If I am, then I guess I didn't do it right."

While she's talking, she shifts so her leg turns slightly to the side, hiding the gash on her calf where a knife grazed her, but not hiding it well enough. Batman noticed.

Batman became an expert at noticing injuries so that he can take advantage of an enemy's weaknesses, and Bruce became even better at it so that he can tell, almost instinctively, whether or not Dick is hurt. So of course he noticed.

This girl is the one they've been hearing about, the one taking out petty criminals in this part of town and leaving them tied up for the cops. The new copycat, but by no means the first. Impostors show up every so often, but usually they're crazies or middle-aged guys trying to play hero, who all invariably need to be saved from certain death by Batman himself.

They've never seen a teenage girl play vigilante in Gotham before. Still, Batman dislikes copycats, no matter who they are.

He looks down at her threateningly and says, "I don't want to see you out here again. Consider this your warning."

The girl opens her mouth to say something back, but Batman's already shooting his grappling gun and soaring up out of this grimy lane and onto the rooftops, out of sight. Batman always gets the last word.

Batgirl's eyes follow him almost enviously, and when he's gone those eyes land on Robin, who's still watching from the fire escape. He winks at her even though she can't see it through his mask, then readies his own grappling gun and shoots.

He looks back at the last second and sees her, thinking the two of them are gone, lean against the nearby building like her knees might give out, she's shaking so bad.

* * *

Home alone in her quiet apartment, Artemis pulls of her cowl and can't help but smile at herself in the mirror. She still can't believe it.

For weeks she has been dreaming about taking her life into her own hands. She made the costume (missing a cape, but she's not sure what the point of capes are anyway) by altering one of the stealth suits her dad gave her for their training exercises. She stole some of his equipment, like grappling guns and smoke pellets. She hid everything and waited. Waited until she had the opportunity. Waited until she had the nerve.

The first time was the hardest. She paced in front of the window, fully-dressed, for an hour before she willed herself to slide it open.

Now she wonders why she didn't take the plunge sooner.

Her fifteenth birthday passed not long ago. She got a typical present, a cell phone. And a not-so-typical present, a large set of throwing knives.

The throwing knives are coming in useful. They're not exactly batarangs, but they do the job. She's careful in her aim, knowing that if she really hurts someone Batman will come down on her with all the dark, righteous fury he's so famous—or infamous—for.

Artemis saw a bit of that fury tonight. She suppresses a shiver as she stows her equipment underneath her sister's dusty bed.

She never expected to avoid them forever. She doesn't know _what_ she expected. There is no long-term plan.

Batman's warning isn't going to stop her. She wants more than anything to go out there tomorrow night as well—a few doses of the vigilante life and she thinks she's addicted—but her dad's back home in the morning and he'll notice if she disappears at night. She has to wait for the end of the week, when he leaves town for another job.

* * *

In a cavern deep underground, skirting the city limits, Bruce Wayne is sending his ward up to the manor above and to bed. He settles into a chair and turns on the large computer before him to begin a search.

He already has a few key terms in mind.

* * *

A week drags by. Artemis's dad goes on another one of his "business trips", this time for three days. That means three nights of freedom. The moment the sun dips below the buildings she's out the window.

The damp, smoky air feels like the freshest in the world to her tonight. She takes a deep breath happily as she strides away from the car thief she left tied to a lamppost. She feels empowered. She feels formidable.

But she doesn't feel like a hero; not yet. Something's missing.

Maybe it's a feeling that builds over time. She needs to accomplish more.

A shadow passes along her feet as she's walking through an alleyway, on the hunt for more perps. Artemis looks up and sees Batman swoop by overhead. He glances quickly down at her, not pausing, and continues swinging smoothly through the air. He's gone in the blink of an eye, up among the rooftops where she can't see.

He barely even noticed her.

Artemis hesitates in the alleyway, not sure if she's disappointed or relieved. Not that she wants another lecture, but a part of her hoped that the warning last week was a test. And that by continuing her patrols and showing that she is serious about this, she'll be, dunno, accepted.

Apparently it isn't that easy.

_Whatever,_ she thinks. _I don't need you. I can do this on my own, and I will. Stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours._

* * *

"What's this?" Dick asks, leaning against the back of Bruce's chair and looking up at the computer screen. The girl in the picture is familiar.

"I'll give you two hints: she wears a mask at night and possesses very little common sense."

"Hypocrite." Dick cocks his head to the side, comparing the girl in the picture to the short glimpse he got of Batgirl the night before.

The blonde hair matches up, as does the height and body type. She's half Asian—Vietnamese specifically, according to the file—which he didn't know. Between the dark and the distance and the cowl, he didn't get a good enough look at her face (and he sort of regrets that now because she's pretty). Besides, at the time he was more focused on her outfit.

"You know, Bruce…" Dick says. "They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."

Bruce grunts, which Dick translates as a sarcastic _I'm flattered._ "Do you know how we can convince her to stop?"

"You're asking me?"

"You're closer to her age, so you have a better understanding of how her mind works." Bruce leans back in his chair and laces his fingers together in front of his face. "Hypothetically… If you were in her situation, what could I do to deter you?"

Dick chuckles under his breath. Sometimes he can't believe how clueless his guardian can be when it comes to things unrelated to crime-fighting, like kids and teenagers. "Uh, Bruce, just a reminder: there was nothing you could have done to deter me."

"That was different."

"Yeah, I guess so… but it wasn't not similar, either."

"What have I told you about double negatives?"

"They're annoying and can I please stop using them," Dick replies unconcernedly. "Anyway, you scared her pretty well last time. I don't think she'll be so keen to play dress-up again."

"I'm less convinced. She isn't an ordinary young woman."

"Oh, yeah? What's so special about…" He squints at the screen. "Artemis Crock? Besides her being named after a Greek goddess, I mean."

Bruce taps on the keyboard briskly, expanding more computer files. "Her family."

* * *

"You can't wear that," a voice says from behind her.

Artemis whips around, nearly slipping on the icy roof. God, that would've been mortifying. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold wind—_not_ embarrassment—as she steadies her footing and glares at the man who snuck up on her.

So much for being ignored. He must've just been too busy to stop earlier.

"What?" she asks Batman, trying to sound irritated rather than startled. She doesn't see Robin, but that doesn't mean he's not lurking in the shadows somewhere.

"That symbol."

"Is it trademarked or something?"

"It's dangerous. You're better off with a target painted on yourself."

She crosses her arms and lets out a _hmmph._ Like she's going to let anyone tell her what she can and can't do, what she can and can't wear.

Truth be told, she only stitched the yellow Bat symbol onto her black costume after a realization that it will keep people from thinking she's a bad guy. But it's _hers_ now and she's proud of it.

He takes a step towards her, and there's a threat clear in his tone. "I wasn't joking when I told you to stop." She doubts he jokes about anything. "If you don't listen to me, I'll have to take you to the authorities."

"Oh, and what _you're_ doing is _so legal_," she says sarcastically.

"You don't know what you're getting into. You're putting yourself and others at risk."

"So that's it. You don't think I can handle myself. Well, for your information, Batman, I'm more than capable. I'm… I'm _incredible_!" she blurts out, gesturing wildly.

He watches her silently, betraying no reaction.

Artemis seriously wants to slap herself for saying something so stupid.

"Your fancy cowl must be obstructing your vision and keeping you from seeing what a great job I've been doing," she says, hoping she sounds a little bit less like an idiot so that she can retain what dignity she has left.

Batman opens his mouth to continue arguing, but Artemis turns on her heel (nearly slipping again) and stomps away. This time _she's_ getting the last word.

_I just told Batman that I'm incredible, _she realizes with horror as she drops down and lands crouched on the fire escape.

She jumps down from platform to platform, trying to get away from him as fast as possible. She wants to bang her head against the nearest wall repeatedly until she forgets about the entire conversation.

He must think that she's an absolute nutcase.

* * *

Batman's waiting for her in her kitchen when she returns home.

He was here first. That means he didn't follow her; he knew beforehand.

He's figured out her identity.

Taking a deep breath through her nose, Artemis braces herself and walks down the short hallway towards him, flicking on the nearest light switch out of spite. She knows how much Batman must hate the light. Maybe he'll fizzle and flee with his hands shielding his eyes.

Illuminated and up close, he just proves to her how much better than her he is. He's taller, stronger, more assured, with better equipment and armor. He's the real deal.

He makes her kitchen look small and her uniform look cheap and her whole crusade look like a sham.

"You broke into my house," Artemis says, her eyes narrowed. "That's actually really creepy. I'm a _teenage girl_, Batman. And you're officially a stalker." She leans against the fridge door, hiding the faded family photographs from his sight. It's pity that she's trying to avoid, not judgement based on her last name. "I'm guessing if you know where I live, then you know my name and all about my family, too?"

"Not many records of you exist."

"But?"

"But, yes. I know who you are, Artemis," he admits.

"Then you should know I'm not some stupid, delusional fan. I know how to fight. I've been trained."

Batman shakes his head slowly. "Not for this."

"Says you," Artemis retorts. "What are you going to do about it, Batman? Drag me to the cops? Talk to my _dad_?" She lets out a single derisive laugh as she imagines how that little encounter would go.

"I'll tell your mother."

She freezes in shock. Batman's going to _tattle on her to her mom_? That's underhanded. Trust him to hit below the belt—he never seemed like the most understanding, respecting guy. He knows how to win.

Artemis isn't going to let him, though. She won't be intimidated, not like last week and not like on the rooftop. She won't let him mess with her on her home turf.

"Fine," she says nonchalantly with an airy shrug. "Do it. She'll probably be glad. At least I'm not being what my dad wants. I'm stopping crimes, not committing them."

"The risks are the same. They can even be worse," Batman says ominously.

Artemis scowls at him. It's too late at night for this and she just wants him to leave her alone so she can go to sleep.

"I'm tired. I'm tired from _successfully _fighting crimeand I'm tired of arguing with you. You're a trespasser. I want you out of my house _now." _She points at the door, then thinks better of it (_this is Batman she's dealing with)_ and points at the window across from them in the living room. "Don't come back unless you change your mind. Actually, don't come back at all."

"Artemis—"

"Go!" she yells angrily, not caring if the neighbours hear. "Get the hell out!_"_

Batman doesn't go. He leans down and talks close to her ear. His voice sounds different—less harsh, more human. It's quiet and full of truths that Artemis is deaf to.

"You're young, Artemis. You can turn your life around without resorting to this. You can be normal, happy, and safe. But if you don't step away from this, and soon, you'll never be able to dig yourself out. You'll be in over your head with no way of going back. If you live that long." He turns and walks away from her, his final words lingering long after he has left: "I want you to know that you're making a mistake."

_Wouldn't be the first one._


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! :D

And an anon asked about pairings? I'm just going to say that they're really complicated? And there will definitely be some form of Traught, but there's going to be Spitfire too. But Dick and Artemis are just going to have this beautiful can't-live-without-each-other type of bond, like on the show but times ten and _ugh_ why are they so perfect I love them so much.

No matter how far I try to stray from non-canon pairings they always end up canon, even in the case of Traught (which I ship so hard). Idk why. There's just going to be emotional turmoil everywhere. Does that make sense?

* * *

On the second night Artemis encounters the second half of the Dynamic Duo.

She slipped away from the scene after foiling a convenience store robbery, and she has just slowed from a run to a brisk walk when she hears solo applause ring from the other end of the seemingly empty parking lot.

Artemis turns around and sees Robin step forward. It's obvious by his smug attitude that he's been watching her for a while. He's unforgivably bright in his red and yellow, but somehow he can appear out of the shadows as suddenly as his partner.

He stops clapping and places his hands on his hips, smiling at her. "Gotta say… I'm impressed, Batgirl."

Batgirl? Is that what they're calling her? It never even crossed her mind to think of a name.

Up close, Robin's not as short as she thought. Still shorter than her, but she's only seen him in comparison to Batman, on those far away video clips the news sometimes plays, and compared to him Robin's tiny.

Skeptically, Artemis glances around her. She peers into the dark corners for Robin's partner. "Where's Batman?" From what she's heard, encountering Robin alone is like encountering a bear cub—be on guard because the big, growly parent can't be too far. Then again, it's not like she's not a criminal. She just learned from one.

"Around. He has a situation to deal with, so we split up and I'm patrolling around here."

_Please_. She's not naive enough to believe that paper-thin excuse of a story. Batman sent him here to play good cop. He's definitely suited to the task—his posture and general attitude make him seem comfortable and open around her as though they're best friends already.

_Or he's underestimating you_, a part of her thinks before she can silence it. _He doesn't see you as a threat._

"Tell me something," Artemis says. "Why does he have a problem with me being out here? He's letting _you_ fight alone, and you're like, eleven."

His face flushes and he pouts, taking offense. "No, I'm—" He stops like he's just thought better of revealing any such information to her. Them and their secrets. "Nevermind. To answer your question… I've been trained extensively for this. I'm capable. Actually, I'm more than capable—I'm _incredible_."

Now it's Artemis's turn to flush in embarrassment. Batman _told him_ about that? Or had he been hiding and watching the scene last night?

She scowls at him. "No, you're just really unhelpful."

"Oh, you wanted a serious answer?" Robin asks with fake surprise. "Sorry, I don't give those out to just anyone. But… I think I'll make an exception."

"Lucky me," she says flatly.

"See, there's a bunch of problems." He counts them on his fingers as he talks, listing them off like something he memorized at school. "You're inexperienced, you don't have the right kinds of tools, you have no contacts in the GCPD so a lot of your catches are getting away before the cops notice or they're released because there's no evidence to hold them, you don't know anything about the big baddies like Two-Face or Joker, and we're not one hundred percent sure what your angle is. But the _big_ problem, the _huge_ problem that trumps all the others, is that he doesn't think you're committed."

"I'm not sure how much more committed I can get," Artemis mutters. She's exhausted and her muscles ache like they've never ached before. "I'm still out here, aren't I?"

"What we're doing isn't a hobby, or even a job. It's a lot more than that." For the first time there's a hint of gravity to his tone, but it doesn't last and he suddenly switches back to cheerful. "Unless you show that you feel the same way about it, he's just going to keep bugging you because he'll think that there's still a chance you'll give it up."

"And how do I prove it?"

He shrugs, his elbows bent and his palms facing up in a clueless gesture. "Maybe…" he says thoughtfully, then grins and laughs. "Maybe you should get a cape."

* * *

The next day is Sunday. Artemis takes the bus to the fabric store and buys plenty of plain black fabric. She spends the rest of the day in her room trying to fashion it into a cape and repeatedly stabbing her thumb with pins by accident until she's grouchy and frustrated and tempted to chuck the whole thing out the window.

No matter how hard she tries, she can't make it look impressive. Her 'cape', if she can even call if that, doesn't have the same sleek metallic sheen as Batman's or Robin's. Theirs are made out of some space-age fabric that has to be unbelievably expensive. She'll never be able to get her hands on it, so she's stuck with some polyester blend that was on sale for four bucks a yard.

Artemis knows that Robin was just kidding about the cape comment, but right now it's another thing _they_ have that _she _doesn't.

The cape she makes is flimsy, unpractical, and pointless. More likely to get snagged and strangle her than offer protection or warmth or whatever capes are supposed to do.

She rips it in half and stuffs it in the bottom of the trash can, then takes the garbage bag outside to the dumpster to dispose of the evidence.

* * *

Artemis goes out cape-less that night, feeling self-conscious like she's underdressed to a party. She shrugs away the feeling—_stupid Robin stupid Batman I can wear whatever I want to stop trying to make me feel like I'm not good enough I'll do the job just as good as you without needing a lousy cape or your dumb gadgets or even your approval—_and works harder, stopping more crimes than the last two nights combined.

She's getting better at this.

She isn't approached by either hero, but she knows she's being watched. The sound of fabric snapping in the breeze seems to follow her.

* * *

Artemis's dad is sitting in front of the TV when she gets home from school the next day. She drops her backpack by the door and goes to the kitchen for something to eat. This morning she was so tired from patrol that all she had time to pack for lunch was an apple and a couple of cookies, and the cafeteria food at her school is vile.

She rummages through the cupboard for peanut butter. "How was work?" she asks.

"Same old. Anything interesting happen around here?"

"Not really."

_If only he knew_. The thought makes Artemis smile around a bite of PB&J sandwich.

He comes over and leans against the other side of the counter. "Pass me a pen?"

Artemis hands him one from the coffee cup they use as a pencil holder and he starts writing things down on the back of a junk mail envelope. She glances at it. Parts for weapons, mostly. He makes equipment order lists like some parents make grocery lists.

"Need anything?" he asks. Artemis shakes her head as she starts emptying the dishwasher. It's too bad that she can't ask him for a cape without him getting suspicious. "You sure? It's been a while since we've ordered arrows—"

"No. No more arrows."

Her dad frowns and raises an eyebrow at her. "Still?"

Artemis nods stiffly. "I've… I've been trying out the knives." She has, just not in the way he thinks. Last night she used them to pin some perp's arms to the wall through his clothes.

"Yeah? And?"

"They're okay. I like using them."

"Y'know, I figured that by now you'd get over your little episode." _Episode_. Is that what he's calling it now? "Maybe we took your training too far too soon, but—"

"_You _took it too far!" Artemis snaps over her shoulder.

"I thought you were ready. Jade…"

Artemis tunes out the rest, like she does whenever he brings up her sister. Jade's name only comes up when he feels like comparing the two of them. Trying to motivate the daughter he has left. Spurring her to surpass the one he lost.

Artemis can't compete with Jade. She can't because she's still not sure whether running away was a point against Jade or a point in her favour. Sometimes it seems like a forfeit, and other times it's like she rose up and above to heights Artemis can't reach and can't follow.

Until the day she figures it out, the tallies are left uncounted. And while most of her memories of the times she spent with Jade (watching movies, having her fingernails painted, being taught that kick that she never thought she would master) are crisp and clear, her memory of Jade as a whole, as a person, is blurred. That's what she's being compared to—a blurry memory.

It's easy to avoid listening. Her angry blood is pounding so loudly in her ears that she can't hear much else.

She wants to throw down the plate she's holding and, over the sound of smashing glass, scream, "_Jade's gone, Dad! It doesn't matter how much better she was, because she's gone! You drove her away."_

The dishes remain intact, but her hands do shake a little as she's stacking them and putting them away.

Her dad walks around the counter and hugs her. The tight, one-armed hug he always gives. When he lets her go, his heavy hand stays on her shoulder, almost insistently.

"Listen, baby girl. You have a gift. Think of all the time and work we put into your archery." Entire days of target practice and all those hunting trips that she's been trying to forget lately because of what they led up to. "It'd be a crime to let all of that go to waste. A couple more years and you'll put that Robin Hood hack and his sidekick to shame."

"I'll give it a try," she lies. She'll sooner snap her old bow in half—she's considered it, but to do that she would have to touch it—than fire another arrow. "No promises."

They watch a movie on TV that evening, and it's nice to not be home alone.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Oh there have been some questions about whether or not there's a Team in this universe? (I meant to answer that last chapter but I forgot oops) And yes, there is for sure going to be a Team, just not yet. This is currently the winter before the team forms, so there's a few months to go before Independence Day.

The Stephanie thing is based on a headcanon I read somewhere (tumblr maybe?) a while ago and I can't find it again. D:

(The Browns have a lot to do with the later plot actually, they're super important. I feel kind of wary introducing non-YJ DC characters in here because I might not do them right? But I just _had_ to.)

* * *

A new family recently settled into the apartment the floor below. Just a mother and her daughter.

The mom works long hours at a hospital, so Artemis offers to babysit the next few afternoons. It's a useful excuse to avoid spending time with her dad—he keeps putting on the pressure for her to practice archery again.

Rumours travel fast in their building. Artemis remembers when her mom and sister being gossiped about in low voices. The other residents don't realize how clearly sound carries up that old stairwell. She learned of the whereabouts of the new family's father one day when she went to get the mail.

That's one of the reasons why she decided to hang out with the kid: she knows what it's like to have a parent in jail. She's going through the same thing. She can relate.

Half an hour in, Artemis is willing to admit that she was dead wrong. She has no clue how to interact with kids.

The girl, Stephanie, is around nine. She's an absolute motormouth with an imagination the size of the moon. She asks questions that Artemis doesn't know the answers to.

"Why's an eggplant called that if it has nothing to do with eggs?"

"Because."

Yeah, she's so not winning babysitter-of-the-year.

They mostly watch old kids movies on VHS, the classic kind that Artemis remembers watching a couple of when she was a kid. Sitting on the carpet in front of the TV set, scootched up much too close to the screen, can't be the best way for a kid to spend the afternoon, but Steph seems happy enough. She adds her own commentary (some of it actually pretty funny) and sings along to all of the songs.

_What's it like? _Artemis wonders as she glances up from the math homework balanced on her lap to glance up at the screen when she hears the opening notes to a song she recognizes. _To say anything and do anything and not worry about whether you're coming off as stupid or flaky or not tough enough?_

She doesn't think she ever spoke her mind that freely, even at that age, even before her mom's arrest. She was always too busy trying to prove herself. Trying to keep it all bottled up. Can't trust anyone, so don't reveal a weakness or an opening.

Back then it was proving herself to her dad, competing with her sister. Now it's her needing to prove to Batman that she's "committed" enough, or he'll keep trying to shut her down.

She sighs when the song is over and goes back to her trig problems.

* * *

The weirdest thing about babysitting is that the Browns' apartment is directly below her own and facing the same way, so the layout is the exact same. The kitchen, the windows, the bedrooms. The only differences are the furniture and decor.

It's like being in her own home. She's so comfortable on the sofa that she nearly nods off for a minute. The door scraping open jolts her wide awake just as her head drops sideways to her shoulder.

Mrs Brown is pushing her way inside, carrying several grocery bags. Artemis takes a few off her hands, and Stephanie helps them unpack and put things away.

"Artemis, have I told you what a lifesaver you are?" Mrs Brown asks as she stacks cans of vegetables and soup up on a shelf.

"It's no big deal. But, uh, thanks."

"You have to let me pay you. How much do I—"

"No, it's fine. Honestly, all I did was sit on the couch." Artemis can't possibly take any payment, especially not from Mrs Brown, who works double shifts at the hospital. If anyone deserves a little help, it's her.

And Artemis can see the telltale signs: the tired expression, the premature wrinkles, the almost imperceptible twitch every now and then. She's known other adults from around the area with similar problems. There are questions Artemis has thought about asking, like how long has she been clean? Was it alcohol or something more serious? But she won't pry.

"Besides," Artemis says. She jerks her thumb at the fridge. "I ate some of your food. We're even."

"At least stay for dinner. I'll actually cook something decent tonight as a thank-you. Why don't you get your dad to come over, too? We're going to be living here for a while; probably a good idea to get to know the neighbours."

"No, thanks," Artemis declines hastily. She doesn't want her dad to talk to the Browns. He has a way of ruining things. "Not tonight. We're busy, sorry. Maybe another time? And I can't watch Steph after seven tomorrow, if that's okay?"

She has a fake reason planned to cover up the real one—the real one being that her dad's out of town again and she really needs to get out as Batgirl before she explodes from impatience—but Mrs Brown doesn't ask. Artemis is grateful. She hates lying to nice people.

"_If that's okay," _Mrs Brown repeats dryly. She's cutting an orange into wedges for Steph. "Of course it's okay. You don't have to watch her at all, Artemis. Don't feel obligated."

Artemis shrugs. "I like watching her. She's an interesting kid."

Stephanie grabs one of the orange wedges and stuffs it into her mouth, then gives Artemis a wide, orange-rind grin. Artemis laughs quietly and rolls her eyes.

Mrs Brown has that sympathetic, '_I heard about your family'_ look on her face when Artemis next looks at her. Artemis glances away; it always makes her feel uncomfortable.

"Tell your dad he's lucky to have a daughter like you," Mrs Brown tells Artemis just before she leaves. Stephanie already said goodbye and was sent to do her homework. "With all we've been though with Stephanie's dad, and _me_, I was worried that… that we messed things up for her. And then we move here, and you… I know you haven't had an easy childhood, either, but the responsibility, the generosity… It's incredible. I'm glad she met you. I'm glad _I_ met you. Just… thanks for everything."

Thinking about the kind words later makes Artemis squirm because she knows she's a terrible role model. Maybe one day, when she's done enough good to outweigh the bad, but not yet.

* * *

It's tough work getting used to the grappling hook. Artemis has practiced with her dad in the past, but not like this. She only learned how to go straight up and how to save herself from falling.

The graceful swooping, the practiced motions of aiming and firing mid-air—those are what she's determined to master so she can keep up with the other heroes.

On a slow night, she spends a couple of hours at a construction site. The workers are all at home, so she has the whole place to herself. It's like her own personal obstacle course.

She has a scare when the beam her grappling line wraps around shudders and creaks under her weight, and she thinks it might collapse and send her crashing to the gravelly ground fifty feet below. It holds and she breathes a misty sigh of relief into the winter air. She hightails it to a thicker, sturdier. beam as fast as she can.

After that things get easier. Almost instinctively, her body learns the right way to curl itself into the swing, how to twist itself to make the most of the momentum. She learns when to keep her arms loose and when to grip the handle of the grappling gun for dear life.

With each swing, the impact on her shoulders is less jarring until it feels like she's soaring effortlessly from beam to beam inside this skeleton of a building. Her face goes numb from the rushes of icy air washing over her again and again, but she's certain that it's frozen into a grin.

Time flies with her, and she has to stop when the sky starts getting lighter. The next day is dawning—Saturday, which means she gets to go home and sleep. The thought of collapsing into bed is so welcome that Artemis can't think of anything else, not her heavy, shaking arms or how sore they're going to be later, as she makes the trek home.

She wakes up at one in the afternoon, and has to spend fifteen minutes brushing the many wind-tangled knots from her hair.

* * *

She could barely lift her arms for most of the day, they hurt so badly, but by evening (and after a lot of stretching that went from feeling excruciating to satisfying) it's subsided into a dull ache in her shoulders, reaching along the lines of muscles to her wrists and down to her lower back. She flexes her fingers and feels the soreness run through her entire arm.

It's just a bit of pain that she'll have no problem working through. She's having too much fun to notice it.

Four gang members have her surrounded on a narrow side street. She spotted them trying to mug a slightly tipsy man on his way home from the bar. They're simple thugs; they don't even have any weapons on them, trusting their strength in numbers to do the work for them.

The first comes at her with a sloppy punch. His pants are so baggy that she's surprised he doesn't trip himself. She turns to dodge the fist and grabs his arm, redirecting his force and throwing him against a second. They fall in a heap in a tall snowbank, and once they're back on their feet they scramble away and flee down an alleyway.

Artemis doesn't follow them. She still has her hands full here, and she has a feeling that extremely dark alley they're sprinting towards wasn't a good choice.

The third feints a swipe so that the fourth can sneak up behind her and grab her by the ponytail, yanking her back. She snarls and elbows the fourth in the gut as hard as she can so that he lets go and stumbles backwards, doubled over in pain with his arms wrapped around his stomach. She grabs his head and slams her knee up against his forehead. He's left sprawled and groaning on the icy sidewalk.

Third is still on his feet, and is approaching her with a switchblade. Turns out she was wrong about the weapons. She sees the reflection of him coming at her in the dark storefront window she's facing. Artemis turns and knocks the knife out of his hand with a swiftly-thrown knife of her own. There's only a little blood. She finishes him off with a high, spinning kick that's a little more flashy than necessary. But she is having fun, after all.

"So, what's my score?" Artemis asks the shadows as she quickly ties the two guys up. She knows who's been watching.

Batman steps out from where he was hiding in the darkness, Robin at his side. "You're a good fighter."

Praise isn't what she was expecting. She forces herself to stay cool and not gape open-mouthed in surprise. "Yeah, that's what I was telling—"

"But that's not what this is about. It's not enough."

Robin pipes up. "There's more to being out on these streets than kicking people in the face."

"Like what?" Artemis demands. "Whatever it is, I'll learn how to do it."

The Bat-signal lights up the inky clouds above. Batman and Robin look from it to each other and, without a word, both pull out their grappling guns in perfect synchronization.

A single _bang_ resonates as they fire at the same time and fly away to answer the call.

Not even a good-bye. Not even a '_we'll talk about this later'_. Compared to the Bat-signal, Artemis is insignificant. She isn't an ally, or someone deserving of recognition. Just a nuisance in a city full of emergencies.

She pulls out her own grappling gun and tails them at a distance, heading for the source of the light. She's wearing the symbol, too. It's her signal, too.

She's committed.

It's common knowledge where the signal comes from: the police HQ. Artemis hides on the next rooftop over and watches from a distance as Batman and Robin land on the flat roof of the police station. They're meeting with another man, who turns off the floodlight at their arrival. Artemis wonders if it's the commissioner. She can't see his face, only the brown trenchcoat he's wearing and _maybe_ some glasses. She's not sure.

Artemis should be barging in on their meeting, asserting herself as Gotham's new hero. That's why she followed them. But being so close to a building full of cops makes her remember Batman's threat to bring her to the police and a sudden fear and nervousness has taken over her. She can't work up the nerve to reveal herself, it's like her legs have turned to cement, so she stays where she's hidden, resorted to spying.

_Get over it,_ she urges herself. _Prove to them that you're here to stay_.

But once she unlocks her limbs and stands straight up, Batman and Robin are jumping off the edge of the police HQ, and the cop is opening the door to the stairwell and disappearing inside.

She gnashes her teeth together in frustration (and cold, because it's freezing). Next time she'll do it. Next time she sees the Bat-signal in the sky, she'll follow it and—

"Artemis, what are you doing here?" a dark voice asks.

She should have seen that coming. Artemis turns and faces Batman and Robin confidently, one hand on her cocked hip.

"So, what's the situation?" Artemis asks, all business.

"Scarecrow escaped from Arkham," Batman says. "We're on high alert. You should stay home until he's been apprehended."

"I'm going to help you search."

Robin gives Batman a sideways glance. Batman looks back at him and frowns. For a moment something passes between them, like they're communicating telepathically. Talking without talking. Batman looks away first.

"That's out of the question," Batman says, and Artemis feels like it's not just her he's talking to. Robin's still looking at him expectantly.

Artemis's lip curls in disdain and she begins to turn away. The city is spread out all around her, vast and full of hiding-holes. The more people searching, the better. "Then I'll search on my own." She's going to help whether he likes it or not.

"Artemis."

"You're harping on about how I don't know how to do anything, but what about when you were starting out?" She whirls around and yells as she's walking away, "Where's the manual that taught you everything before you put on the cape?"

"_Artemis_," Batman says sternly. "Wait."

She stops in her tracks and glares at him. Why does he have to keep calling her by her first name while she's in costume? "What?"

Robin is smiling. She hopes that's a good sign.

"The next night you choose to… wear _that_, meet us here," says Batman. "Both of us searching the same locations will be a waste of time. We'll split the city into areas to investigate."

"You're going to give me the most boring places to search, aren't you?"

"We all start somewhere. You need to walk before you can run."

Artemis isn't thrilled, but she nods. She'll play along for now. But Batman doesn't realize that she doesn't need to walk.

Artemis fires her grappling gun and leaps off the edge into the open air. She's already learned how to fly.

* * *

Dick settles into his seat in the Batmobile and says to the driver, "So, about back there… You caved pretty quickly. Changed your mind?"

"No," says Bruce.

"Ulterior motive?"

"New approach."

Dick nods, understanding. "Wild goose chase."

"We need to show her the unrewarding side of this life. We'll tire her out. All she wants to do is fight—she'll get bored and lose interest when she realizes that it's not fun and games."

Crossing his arms and slouching in his seat, Dick silently doubts the effectiveness of Bruce's big plan. He saw the way Artemis fought, like she was born to do it. She won't give it up.

At least, he hopes she won't. She can be great. He knows she can. If he can do it, so can she.

"But it is kind of fun," Dick tells Bruce. "Sometimes. Sort of."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! xo

* * *

A flash dazzles her vision. It's so sudden.

For a few seconds she stands there, blinking the stars out of her eyes until they start readjusting to the dark, starless Gotham night.

Was the flash from a weapon meant to disorient her? She takes a step back and reaches to feel the rough brick wall of the building behind her to make sure that no one can sneak up on her while she's dazed.

It's her second patrol playing by Batman's rules. As expected, he's been sending her to check out the quietest neighbourhoods, the least likely places to find Scarecrow's hideout or to even find a crime in progress.

She busted up a few cases of graffiti and vandalism, scaring some teens just by showing up wearing the Bat-symbol, but that's all.

The flash of light was the most startling thing to happen to her so far and as her vision returns to normal and she sees that there's no one else here—no one hiding behind the trash bins or charging down the narrow lane at her with a sharp weapon—the wild, paranoid theories of ambushes and supervillainous attacks are pushed aside in favour of a simpler one. She recognizes that light.

It was a camera flash.

She sprints around the corner, and then another, then stops and slowly cranes her neck forward to look up and down the main street, staying as hidden in the shadows as she can. It isn't even midnight yet, so there are half a dozen people walking down the sidewalks, a few cars passing by, and she has no idea where her photographer can be. She can't confront all these civilians to find the camera without revealing herself, which is against the whole point. She doesn't want to be seen. If she becomes a huge topic of conversation, then…

Artemis retreats back into the shelter of the alleyway. Her heart is racing and a thousand terrifying scenarios are battering around in her skull. She feels her edges of cowl with her hands, hoping that it hides her face well enough. Maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe the picture was taken from far enough away. Maybe the quality was bad.

Artemis can't sleep in the scant few hours she has until morning. She lies awake in her bed, knowing that her dad is coming back tomorrow just in time to see the breaking news that'll be plastered all over the newspapers and TV reports.

That breaking news might be her face.

* * *

Batman is called away for the night on a mission with the Justice League, so, after some begging on Dick's part, he dropped off Dick for a sleepover at Wally West's (alias Kid Flash) house.

Dick has strict orders to keep his sunglasses on and protect his secret identity at all times, but Wally's known for months now so, after making polite small talk with Mary and Rudy then scrambling up the stairs excitedly after Wally, once the bedroom door is closed and the TV turned on for an all-night video game marathon, the glasses come off.

"Uncle B told me about Gotham's newest crimefighter," says Wally, and instead of picking up his game controller right away he sits at his desk and brings the computer out of sleep mode, grinning over his shoulder at Dick.

The article is on the screen. The article. The one Dick has been trying really hard to forget ever existed.

This Batgirl, this Artemis, got a little bit too cocky, and little bit too brave, ventured a little bit too far into the open, and now she is front page news in Gotham. Move over Robin, here's the new Batkid.

There is only one half-decent picture of her—the bat symbol is clear as day on the front of her costume, her long, blonde hair whipping around as she turns to face the flash from the camera in shock. The photo shows up on most of the articles, because there haven't been any new pictures lately. She has gotten more careful since.

The worst part, the absolute worst part of her newfound publicity, is that the more outrageous, cheap and sleazy papers have started up a rumour that is sweeping throughout Gotham:

_That Batgirl is Robin all grown up._

_That Robin was secretly a girl in disguise all this time. _

_Robin is a rather girly name, after all._

_Maybe they were wrong to be calling Robin the "Boy" Wonder?_

That is the article that Wally has open on his internet browser, and is cracking up in laughter over as he quotes the most humiliating lines and watches Dick's face get more and more sulky. By the time Wally has gone through the entire article, Dick is imitating Batman's scowl.

Later, when Wally is done having his laugh and Dick is done fuming, when they're busy mashing the buttons on the controllers to pummel each other virtually and the conversation has skipped to a few different topics before coming full circle back to Batgirl, Wally asks, "Are you going to induct her into your bat-club?"

"I dunno," Dick says with a shrug. "Probably not, knowing Bruce. He wants her to quit before she gets hurt."

"What about you? Think she's got what it takes?"

"Maybe." The memory of the last time he saw her fight crosses his mind. She is good, no doubt about it, but without their technology and resources, unless they extend her a helping hand, she doesn't stand a chance. "Why?"

"She seems cool," Wally says nonchalantly, not looking away from the TV screen. "And, dude, a female sidekick? About time. Not that I mind hanging out with you guys, but a girl to hang out with is just what I—I mean, we—need." Dick rolls his eyes, wondering how hard Batgirl would hit Wally if he hit on her. "Just promise that I'll get to meet her if it happens."

"I'm telling Bruce that you're attracted to people in bat costumes."

"I'm attracted to _girls_ in _spandex_," Wally asserts.

"Riiight."

"At least I'm not secretly female."

Dick flushes indignantly and takes his rage out on Wally via video game violence. "I'm not!"

* * *

It was stupid of her to think that she could keep this from her dad. He probably knew that she was getting up to something from the first time she sneaked into his hidden storeroom down the street and borrowed a grappling gun.

But he doesn't say a word about it. Not while he's driving her home from school, or while she's doing homework in the living room, or while they cook dinner (he cooks spaghetti and she makes salad and even though they don't say much she feels like they're a normal family for once). The news is on the TV—they're talking about the Batgirl, oh god, oh no, please shut up—and Artemis keeps her head down as she chops vegetables, trying not to let any of the gnawing dread show.

There's still a chance he hasn't matched the Batgirl's face to her own. Could be that he doesn't care enough to spare the Batgirl story more than a glance. Could be that her mask does its job.

Once night falls her nerves are stretched too far like an elastic ready to snap. She can't live on tenterhooks like this, so there's actually a note of relief within the dismay when she heads to her bedroom to get away from it all and is stopped by her dad's voice:

"Going out tonight?"

Her hand grips the doorframe tightly. He's known, and he's been playing with her this whole time. She looks back over her shoulder at him. He's standing at the other end of the hallway with knowledge and amusement glinting in his eyes.

There's no cold loathing aimed at her for abandoning their family values. He just chuckles and tells her that he's proud of her for taking more of an interest in her training. At this stage he doesn't care about who she fights, as long as she's getting the experience.

"Just be careful. If you mess with the big rackets like Penguin or Two-Face, you sure as hell better not let them find out who you are, or I'm going to be neck-deep in trouble."

It's himself he's worried about. How surprising.

"And if you ever get that Bat to trust you—which I doubt but hey, who knows?—there's a lot of fun we can have."

There are times when her dad's idea of fun strongly disagrees with hers. She thinks that this is one of those times.

* * *

"My dad knows."

Batman isn't surprised. Artemis is pretty sure that he doesn't do surprised. "I assumed he would figure it out now that the article is viral."

_Brilliant deduction, Sherlock_, Artemis thinks sarcastically. They don't call him the world's greatest detective for nothing.

The two of them and Robin are standing on the roof of a small apartment complex, not unlike the one Artemis lives in. They meet somewhere different every night Artemis dons her cowl and patrols. They're not working together, not even close. They meet so that they can work _separately_.

Typically, their conversations exist of only a few words, and go something like, "_You stay over there. Fine?" "Fine, as long as you stay over there."_

Batman still treats her rather coldly, making sure that she knows how displeased he is with her, but whatever. She can deal. Part of his moodiness might be due to his frustration over not finding Scarecrow yet. Their split-up-and-search plan isn't working, probably because he's suggesting her the most pointless places to search.

But she's hesitant about quitting on him and doing her own thing—it's like an unspoken challenge between them. Who will cave first? Is she winning by persevering or is she playing into his hands and staying out of the way? She can't figure it out.

"Was your dad mad?" Robin asks.

Artemis shakes her head and tries not to shiver from the cold wind that's whipping her ponytail around. "He thought it was funny. Before you ask," she tells Batman irritably, "no, I'm not quitting. And he's not making me stop."

Batman's frown becomes slightly more pronounced, while Robin looks the opposite of disappointed. "He's not?" the kid butts in.

"I guess that, like you, he thinks it's a phase," Artemis says. She starts walking to the edge of the roof. "Anyways, I'm going."

"Stay away from the docks," Batman says. "We're searching there tonight."

Artemis grits her teeth in frustration. "Fine."

* * *

Her dad drops the wrapped bundle on her lap while she's reading up on Scarecrow. She got the book on superheroes and their villains from the public library, and so far it's trash and a waste of her time. The author treats his ridiculous theory that Batman is a vampire like it's proven fact.

Artemis closes the book and looks from the package to her dad, frowning. "What's this?"

He shrugs. "Open it and find out."

She rips away the plain paper to find something made of dark, shiny material. Still confused, Artemis lifts it up and lets it unfurl. It's made of a fabric she's never felt before, like metal and leather woven together, but smooth, supple, and strong. Black on one side, deep yellow on the other.

It's a cape.

Her dad smirk-smiles at the incredulous expression on her face. Even after he leaves, grabbing the keys off the counter and going out to run a few errands, she sits there, clutching the fabric of the cape and in such a state of shock and disbelief that she can barely form a thought, except for:

_Why?_

People say to never look a gift horse in the mouth, but Artemis has been taught differently. Everything comes with a price, a secret motive. The man who taught her that, her dad, is the perfect example of that. He always has some angle.

But she does wear the cape on patrol that night. When she meets the other heroes for a fleeting few moments on another rooftop, Batman acts like he doesn't notice. Robin grins at her and gives her a thumbs-up.

The cape is neat. The wind doesn't bother her quite as much, and she quickly gets adjusted to using the grappling lines while wearing it. Plus, her intimidation factor on the few petty criminals she meets goes up tenfold. But something about the cape bugs her throughout her patrol—Artemis doesn't know if it's because she's still getting used to it, or if it's the knowledge of where the cape came from, but to her it feels a bit too heavy.

She still doesn't feel like a hero yet. Maybe she never will if she keeps listening to Batman and wasting her nights hunting for crime down empty streets. It could be time to take the search into her own hands.


	5. Chapter 5

Artemis waits a minute. Then five. Then ten. She sits on the edge of the rooftop with her chin resting in her hands as she glowers down at the snow-covered city below. Her expression is as dour as those of the gargoyles perched beside her.

She came here to meet Batman one more time and tell him that she's done answering to him as long as he keeps trying to make her quit. That she is going to conduct her own search for Scarecrow wherever she wants.

Batman isn't even here. Neither's Robin. They stood her up.

And she spent her entire math class composing in her head exactly what she'd say to Batman.

This… This is just rude.

She stands and stretches. Fine, she'll take this as a free pass. It's a relief to go a night without Batman scowling at her.

Artemis isn't sure why she's even bothering with the other heroes. She doesn't want to be ordered around like an idiot or treated like she's worthless. She doesn't want to be ignored and left completely on her own, either. She wants to be accepted. Needed.

But dealing with Batman and Robin is a thousand times worse than dealing with the cliques at school. They're impenetrable, and they're never going to open any doors and welcome her. She has to barge her way in.

Good thing she has one hell of a form of stress relief available to her—beating the crap out of a group of ATM-tamperers that feel like picking a fight when she confronts them.

Artemis does feel a lot better about herself after they've been tied securely to the very ATM they tried to steal from. She stands over them and cracks her knuckles threateningly, then finds the nearest payphone and calls up the cops.

Just as she's placing the phone back down on the receiver, she catches a glimpse of red and yellow streaking across the rooftops on the other side of the street.

Robin. And he's sprinting like his life depends on it. Something's up.

Artemis pulls out and preps her grappling gun, and soon she's up on the roofs, chasing after and gaining on him.

"Robin!" she calls. He darts a glance over his shoulder at her but doesn't slow down.

She runs and jumps faster, pushing her limits because she's determined to catch up. Another few blocks and she's almost beside him.

"What's the situation?" she asks breathlessly. They both shoot and swing to the next rooftop.

"Bomb threats," Robin says as they land and keep running. He's out of breath too, panting in the icy air, and his face is flushed. He must have run halfway across the city. "All over town. Me n' Batman and the cops are trying to disarm them all before they go off. We had to split up. I already—" They reach another edge and have to take another leap. "I already took care of a couple, but I've got one more."

"Need a hand?"

He frowns, unsure. "Batman would—"

"Oh, come on! Do you do everything Batman says?"

"When it's an emergency like this, then, yeah, I try to," Robin says seriously. "Keeps me and other people from getting hurt. Besides, I don't want to get yelled at, so…"

"Don't care," Artemis says. "I'm coming with. It's not like you have time to argue. And what if the bomb's on a really high shelf and you need someone taller to reach it?"

He shakes his head and mutters something under his breath that she can't hear over the wind rushing past.

They wind up at Gotham's natural history museum, the oldest museum in the city. The doors are unlocked and the security system disarmed when they arrive—the night guards were called ahead and informed of the situation. They've all evacuated, so it's just the two of them, Robin and Batgirl, a different kind of dynamic duo.

And Artemis is thinking that she wouldn't mind if this became a frequent thing. Robin's a lot more pleasant to be around than his moody, stubborn partner. More willing to give her a chance.

"It's Riddler," Robin explains while they run through the dark, echoey atrium. "Typical ransom grab. Give him so much cash or he'll blow up Gotham's landmarks. But of course he couldn't resist testing Batman at the same time, so he sent riddles with hints to the locations. Batman thinks he's figured out where Riddler's hiding, so while he's dealing with him, we gotta deal with the bombs. One of the last riddles points to the fountain in this museum."

The fountain lies just ahead of them, opulent and old as the museum itself, with a brass plaque at its base to thank the main contributors: the Wayne foundation. The water's been turned off for the night, the pool completely still around the carved marble lions. Robin jumps over the water onto the back of one of the lions and climbs from statue to statue, examining them.

"See a bomb?" Artemis asks.

"Nope. But I found this." He holds up a piece of paper, leaps down, and lands beside her. She reads the riddle over his shoulder.

"I've heard that one before," Artemis says, her eyebrows knitting together as she remembers. "The answer's '_man_'. I don't know where it's originally from, though." She thinks she heard it in English class, but she isn't certain.

Robin presses a button on his glove and it emits a holographic computer screen. He types rapidly with one hand. "Ten points to you for getting the right answer," he says as he squints at his search results. What he reads makes him let out a scoffing laugh. "Oh, that's just _dumb_. It's the riddle of the sphinx. Lions? _Man?_ Sphinx? Get it? Nygma, you are really running out of ideas."

"Think he means the Egyptian exhibit?" Artemis asks.

Robin nods as the hologram vanishes. "Let's go!"

Artemis leads the way. She remembers where the exhibit is from the field trip she took to the museum last year. But they reach the room and everything looks… different.

"There used to be a sphinx statue here." Artemis grinds the toe of her boot on the floor where it should be. "Right _here_." And it's not the only thing that's missing—there used to be more statues and vases where now she only sees empty, dusty floorspace.

"Yeah, I know." Robin glances at the cans of paint stacked by the wall along with toolboxes and a ladder. "Looks like they've been renovating… Must be in storage. Next stop: basement."

They sprint down flight after flight of stairs to the storage rooms. "Is this like a typical villainous plot?" Artemis asks, vaulting a handrail and dropping to the next lower level. "Corny riddles and dumb tests?"

"Eh, it depends," says Robin as they reach the bottom. "It's a typical _Riddler_ plot. He likes to play games. Penguin gets kinda gimmicky sometimes, too. But when it comes to crooks like Joker or Two-Face, you should never go along with their games. Ever." He looks up from his task of tampering with the basement's electronic locks and gives her a serious frown. "Believe me—I've been there and done that. This one time Two-Face almost…" The door clicks open and he trails off mid-sentence, rubbing his shoulder as though remembering. "It wasn't fun."

The storage room is crowded but neat, with boxes, lockers, and shelves of artifacts arranged in rows. The bomb is in here somewhere, but there are a lot of rows to go through and the sphinx statue isn't especially large and easy to spot.

They split up and quickly skim through the narrow aisles. Robin keeps chatting loud enough for Artemis to hear—cheerful, like he isn't terrified to be in the same room as a hidden bomb—and several times she catches him glancing at her through gaps in the shelves. It hits her that this is probably the closest the kid's ever gotten to being on a date. Great. Lucky her.

Their paths intercept at the end of a row. "Y'know, Batgirl…" His mouth quirks into a small, sincere smile. "I'm actually really glad you—"

"_Robin!_" she calls out in warning. Dumb kid was looking at _her_ instead of where he was walking and snagged a wire trap with his ankle.

"Oh—" he begins. He tries to jump out of the way but only manages an awkward little hop in the split second before the wire trap tightens around his leg and _yanks_ him up and away, fast as a snapped elastic. He's swept off his feet so abruptly that his head smacks against the hard concrete floor with a sickening thud, then he's being pulled through the air by the ankle. Artemis sees how the thin cable is strung along the walls and she hurls a throwing knife, severing the line before Robin gets smashed through a glass display case of medieval swords.

His limp body falls and bounces off a large metal crate. He lands skidding on the floor. Artemis cringes in sympathy at the crash of each painful impact.

Robin doesn't get up. He's wheezing on the ground—got the wind knocked out of him, for sure—and a tiny trickle of blood winds its way down from his hairline. The good news is that Artemis has found the sphinx statue and the bomb strapped to it. Robin landed close to it, in the same row. The bad news is that the glowing red numbers show it's less than two minutes til detonation, and Robin's in no condition to be disarming it.

"Robin, what am I supposed to do?" asks Artemis, shaking his shoulder and praying that he'll return to full consciousness.

His eyes are squeezed shut in pain. "Not… so loud…" he groans. He swipes his hand through the air like he's trying to shoo her away, but instead hits the side of his own face.

Artemis lowers her voice to a lost murmur. "What am I supposed to…?"

He keeps groaning softly. She spots the tiny radio device that he's clumsily trying to claw out of his ear. She bats aside his hand and delicately pries the device free.

Slipping the radio into her own ear, Artemis winces as she discovers that it wasn't _her_ Robin was telling to quiet down. Batman is yelling over the comm-link. Shouting straight into Artemis's ear for his partner to respond, and demanding to know what happened. His voice sounds scared.

"Robin can't come to the phone right now," Artemis tells Batman. "Guess you'll have to make do with me." She keeps talking, not letting him get a single word in edgewise. "Look, I know I'm not your favourite person, but your sidekick's down for the count and I'm the only one who can keep him from getting _blown up_, so you don't have a choice but to work with me. All right?"

There's a moment of silence from the other end that has her wondering if this radio is even on (Is there a button she was supposed to press?) and then—

"Do you have any experience with bombs?" Batman asks.

"No. That's why I need your help."

"Hrm." He sounds displeased.

"Sorry I never learned how to defuse a bomb," Artemis snaps. It's not like it's common knowledge.

"It's simple," he says calmly. "Just—"

"Oh yes, it's _so simple!_"

"It is if you calm down and listen to me," says Batman, his voice still frustratingly calm. "How much time is left on the clock?"

"One minute, fourteen seconds." Not nearly enough time to get herself and Robin out of range. This thing's probably powerful enough to level the entire building. Even as she says the time, the numbers are changing. Seconds slipping away until…

"_Focus,"_ Batman says sternly. "There should be a panel on the side. Open it."

"Okay." She fumbles with the metal panel—_oh god she's touching a bomb her dad never trained her for this—_until the latch clicks and it swings open.

"What do you see?" Batman asks.

She tries her best to describe the mess of coloured wires inside. It doesn't make any sense to her.

"Each of the bombs tonight have been slightly different. More of Riddler's tests," says Batman. He uses nine of the precious few seconds to think about it, while Artemis stares at the dwindling digits and nervous sweat collects on her forehead. Finally, he says, "Try the blue wire."

"_Try?"_ she rasps in disbelief. Does he even _know_ or is he guessing?

"Trust me, Artemis."

Artemis finds the wire, closes her eyes, and tugs. When she doesn't find herself incinerated three seconds later, she peeks through her eyelids. To her horror, the timer's still ticking. "Nothing happened."

Batman grunts thoughtfully, then says, "Disconnect the black and red at the same time."

"I—"

"Do it. _Now_."

Artemis keeps her fingers steady as she grips the wires, trying not to shake or flinch. It has to be at the _same time_. She needs to pull out the black and red at the same time. She can do this.

She takes a deep breath.

Black and red. Black and red.

Black and—

* * *

Her heart is still pounding wildly five minutes later, when she's helping Robin walk out of the museum's front doors.

The Batmobile is parked just down the steps, wisps of exhaust still rising in the air from the tailpipe. Standing in front of it is Batman, not moving a muscle or saying a word. Dark, silent, and ominous. An icy shiver runs down Artemis's back, not just from the winter wind.

"He's mad," Robin whispers in her ear as he gently shrugs her arm away and stands on his own. A little wobbly, wincing at the pain in his ribs, but standing. "You should go. We'll talk later, okay?"

He walks tiredly to his mentor, doing his best not to drag his feet. Artemis can almost feel the anger radiating off of Batman—she can swear he's made the temperature outside drop ten degrees with his cold wrath. But it only seems to be directed at Robin. Batman doesn't spare Artemis a single glance.

Artemis wonders what the punishment for disobedient sidekicks is. No dessert? Grounded from crime-fighting? Can't be anything cruel, not with the way Batman's carefully leading Robin to the Batmobile, one hand resting on the boy's shoulder to keep him steady. There is genuine concern there, even through all that thick, seething rage.

Artemis hightails it out of there when she sees the flashing lights and hears the shrill sirens of police cars approaching fast, not sure if Batman's unsteady truce with the cops extends to her. She isn't going to risk finding out, not tonight.

It catches up to her a few streets over. The lingering panic is battling with the adrenaline and her head starts spinning so badly that she has to sit down on a milk crate in an alleyway and put her head between her knees. It takes her a few deep breaths before she can stand up straight again, but when she does stand up, she's smiling. She knows she did good work tonight.

She defused a bomb. If that isn't badass, then she doesn't know what is.

* * *

"Why'd you cut your hair?" Stephanie asks, batting at Artemis's ponytail as they walk down the sidewalk. Artemis volunteered to take Steph to her piano lessons after school on Tuesdays. It's no big deal—Artemis passes the elementary school and the house Steph takes piano lessons in on her way home anyway. "I liked your hair."

Artemis shakes her head slightly, still getting used to the lighter feeling. "It kinda got in my way."

She was sick of having jerks grab and yank on her ponytail while she was beating them up. Last week one yank threw her neck out of place and gave her a kink that bothered her for days, so she finally gave in and grabbed the kitchen scissors, trimming it to her mid-back. It's still long, but she couldn't bring herself to cut it any shorter. And if anyone manages to get close enough to grab it now, then she's clearly not doing her job very well.

"When you were fighting bad guys?" Stephanie asks, hopping over a crack in the sidewalk.

"Yea— _What?_" Artemis stops dead in her tracks and stares at Stephanie in horror. Then she manages to wrangle some composure and cracks a grin. Maybe Stephanie's joking. She has to be joking. "What are you talking about?" Artemis asks with a forced laugh.

"Fighting bad guys," Steph repeats, and _no_, she's not joking. "'Cause you're Batgirl." She says it like it's completely obvious, and Artemis desperately hopes it isn't. Here she thought she was being so secretive and stealthy about her nighttime career, and a _nine-year-old_ managed to figure it out.

"No, Stephanie," Artemis says firmly. "I'm definitely not Batgirl. Just because I'm blonde like her doesn't mean—"

"I saw you climbing past my window in your superhero outfit."

"I… I was— uh… Y-You must have…" Artemis's tongue tangles in her mouth as she tries to deny is she supposed to explain that away? Her brain won't work—it's frozen solid.

_Shit_.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. I can keep a secret! Pinky swear." Steph smiles brightly, pulls off her purple mitten, and holds up her littlest finger.

The fate of her secret identity remaining a secret rests on a pinky swear. But Steph _does_ look sincere. Artemis winds her pinky finger around Steph's and shakes. She's nearly sick with unease over the mess of a situation, but unless she develops memory-wiping powers very soon there's nothing she can do but trust Stephanie.

* * *

At first Artemis thinks the kid is some younger boy with a crush.

He walks up to her and greets her by name one afternoon while she's waiting for her dad to pick her up after school. Artemis is leaning against the brick wall of the building, facing the parking lot, skimming over the graded French test she got handed back earlier that day.

He's a shrimpy boy wearing a blue jacket and sunglasses. _Sunglasses in February?_

She blinks at him in bewilderment, frowns, mumbles a disinterested "Hey" in response, and goes back to checking her answers, hoping he gets the message she's screaming at him with her body language—_I don't want to talk to you._

He doesn't leave. He's still standing in front of her with his hands in his pockets.

"Artemis…" he says.

She throws an irritated glare at him over the top of her paper. Then she freezes, because the voice, the smile, the dark hair, the fading bruise on his forehead…

He's _Robin_, out of uniform.

He smirks at the stunned, bug-eyed expression on her face. That smirk vanishes when her shock quickly turns to fiery rage.

"You little stalker!" she snaps accusingly.

She stuffs the test into her jacket pocket and glances around them warily. There's a group of students, most of them in her grade, waiting at the nearby bus stop, and there's a few girls from her math class chatting outside the doors of the school. Any one of them could notice Robin standing here and start wondering how Artemis knows this weird younger kid they've never seen before.

She turns back to look at Robin, taking a deep breath through her nose and letting it out as a puff of mist in the frigid air, probably making her look like an angry bull. She hasn't seen him in almost two weeks and if she wasn't so pissed off she would be happy to see that he recovered from his injuries. But is she _ever_ pissed off. "Leave_. _You have three seconds to get out of my sight."

Robin has no right to invade her personal life like this. Frantic paranoia grabs ahold of her, and she feels like everyone around them is staring, like everyone _knows_ just from him showing up and talking to her. Her dad's already found out her secret, and she can't risk anyone else doing the same. Her daily life isn't meant to intersect with her night job. The two worlds can't collide.

He holds up his hands in appeasement. "I'm not stalking. I just swung by to tell you, thanks. You know, for helping us out. Saving my life." He cocks his head to the side, observing her through his sunglasses. "You seem really… distraught. What's wrong? I'm not trying to threaten you, or scare you, I only—"

"You need to _go away_, okay? You can't be here."

"It's okay, Artemis," Robin says. "I'm just here to talk. I'm really good at keeping things on the down low, so trust me, I won't—"

"I don't care," she says through gritted teeth. "I don't want to talk to you right now." Her dad is going to be here any second now, and if he sees Robin…

"This is important. Just one minute? Please?"

She sighs in annoyance and crosses her arms, tapping one finger against her arm impatiently as she waits for him to get it over with.

"You're wearing him down," Robin says. "I can tell. He's too stubborn to admit it, but you've impressed him. He knows you can handle it. So, you don't have to keep reaching. Just do what you've been doing and he'll come around eventually. Okay?"

"Fine. Thanks for letting me know." Artemis shoos him away with one hand. "Well, since you've delivered your message, you _need to go._"

"Okay, okay." He takes a step back and smiles coyly. "See you tonight?"

Before she can answer, there's a scraping of tires and her dad's truck pulls up in front of them. Artemis's stomach feels like it drops to the pavement. This is bad. This is the opposite of what should happen.

Not saying another word to Robin, she steps forward, flings open the car door, and buckles up as fast as she can without seeming frantic and making her dad suspicious.

Her dad doesn't even look at her. He's looking straight past her, out her window at Robin, who's standing his ground by the wall and looking straight back at him. She can tell her dad's sizing the kid up. Age, height, build, posture.

Dark sunglasses.

Those stupid, stupid sunglasses. Could Robin be any more obvious? Artemis wants to groan and slam her head against the dashboard.

There's an unbearably tense moment when her dad and Robin each recognize the other for what he truly is. They're both still and silent, watching and waiting for the other to react.

Robin has his hands in his jacket pockets. Artemis's heart hammers. She's certain the kid has weapons on him.

_Nonono don't do it Robin, just walk away. Walk away._

Her dad keeps weapons hidden in the car. She does _not_ want a showdown to happen in the parking lot of her school. There's no way her secret identity would make it through intact.

After what feels like a small eternity, her dad turns his head to look forward and presses the gas. Artemis allows herself a tiny, silent exhale of relief as they start moving and drive out of the parking lot.

She glances back, and doesn't see anyone standing by that stretch of wall. Robin's already disappeared.

"Who was that, Artemis?" her dad asks, even though it's obvious by the glint in his eyes that _he knows_. "Friend of yours?"

She rolls her eyes scornfully. "God, no. Just some annoying kid. He's been bugging me for weeks. I think he has a crush or something," she lies.

He smirks. "You breaking all the boys' hearts, baby girl?"

"Something like that," she mumbles, slouching in her seat, unable to shake the uncomfortable, crawling feeling that this will somehow come back to bite her sometime in the future.


End file.
